Shavei Shomron, Beit Iba, Sunday, 23.07.06 PM Observers: Alix W., Susan L., (reporting)Guest: Ziporah B. Summary Life goes on in the Occupied Territories. And on. And on. And the settlers are sitting pretty, prettier than ever. 14:10 Jit JunctionA rolling checkpoint with approximately 30 vehicles coming from the Beit Iba direction, Thirty from the southern, Za’atara direction. As we pull up on the side of the road, a car, with license plates we can’t see, pulls up alongside us, a soldier begins to stride over from his checking duties to our side of the road as we are treated to language similar to that used recently by the President of the United States. The owner of the car is a settler who continues to let out loudmouthed, foul venom as the corporal suggests we park further along the road. We do so, the Israeli car follows us, there’s no where to park, so we turn, cross over into the long line of Palestinian vehicles as the settler’s car places his across the front of ours. Two soldiers now approach, the first getting visibly upset (by the settler’s behavior), tells us we’re standing in a Palestinian line of cars (we cannot move now because of the settler’s car), that we’re “endangering” their lives. Just then, a mini van pulls out of the Sarra dirt road, turning up the hill, away from us, and the corporal — more and more upset– fires his rifle. We decide that we can only cause more trouble and manage to maneuver our way out of the long line of vehicles, turn on to Rte. 57, towards Beit Iba, the settler’s car making sure to follow us until the entrance way to the Qedumim industrial area. 14:30 Deir SharafShimon, the contractor from Jerusalem sees us approach the Shavei Shomron wall where an earth mover is “getting rid” of more and more olive trees. We’re told that the wall will be continued (as will the Occupation ), at a right angle to the present wall, leading up to the steep hill where olive trees, including Jamal’s, have already been dug up to create this huge so-called “security” roadway, 25 meters wide around the settlement. The contractor goes on to say that the problem is that the security road can’t be built around the top of the settlement because of the military camp there! Both the new military tower atop the hill, close to the settlement’s houses, and the new military tower at the entrance to the camp are, “of course” already manned, and there’s surveillance of what’s going on.It’s deathly quiet and horribly hot up here, not a soul moves, and no birds sing. At the mini market, a visitor from Ramallah tell that it took him one and a half hours to get through the checkpoint at Beit Iba, that the journey to and from Ramallah takes three hours, a journey that should take 45 minutes (Ramallah is a mere 60 kms. from Nablus). A few minutes later, we’re joined by the women of the family, who’ve come from the checkpoint in a taxi, and who sail through the checkpoint quickly as they are women!15:35 Beit IbaWe hear (unsubstantiated) rumors that the checkpoint was closed for half an hour at 10:30 in the morning. At this time, there are only eight vehicles going into Nablus, but when we leave, there are three times that number. Slowness typifies this shift, the soldiers, of whom there seem to be plenty, more than a couple running around with the radio aerials on their backpacks (usually signifying the commander of a checkpoint), don’t work efficiently, and it’s obvious why numbers of passing pedestrians or vehicles pile up. Meanwhile, the donkey carts are working to capacity today, filled with huge piles of men’s pants, with sapling trees or other life staples!There are ten in the detention compound at this time, all ages, one whose ID was lost yesterday. There’s a representative from the DCO office, a seemingly unobliging-and-unwilling-to-work character whose sunglasses and parachute insignia belie that he’s only a warrant officer! “If he’s lost his ID (which was `mislaid’) by the army at the checkpoint), he must go to their Ministry of Interior just like we need to.”15:55 — the turnstiles contain not one would be passing Palestinian; more are coming back into Nablus. No male from 16-35 can go in or out of the city, according to E, the commander. There are now 20 in the compound. Its gate no longer closes properly, so it’s often open, at one point a man comes out from the compound, hands out cigarettes to the men coming from Deir Sharaf, into Nablus, then calmly walks back into the compound. A shouting military policeman makes life complicated for an elderly Hebrew speaking Palestinian. The checkpoint commander, E., insists on speaking garbled Arabic, mixed with Hebrew, to Palestinians who are, naturally, confused. The commander’s entire behavior is confusing. He’s not up to speed with what is going on at the vehicle checking area, engages in long, earnest conversations with Palestinians, or with us, and holds on to a large pile of green and orange IDs as if they were a stack of playing cards he’s about to shuffle. 16:20 — a well spoken woman, and her children, returning after a few days away from their home in Nablus, pass, ask who we are and what MachsomWatch does, will certainly look us up on the internet! We exchange pleasantries, and only after a few minutes, does it become clear that her husband is being held at the vehicle checking area as he doesn’t have a permit for the car. He’s a doctor at La Rabida Hospital in Nablus. We run interference on his behalf with E., to no avail. E. goes by the book. Ten minutes later, the doctor himself approaches E. and does a much better job! E. listens, tells him off and, as is usual with most of his conversation as where he lets people through, ends with a big, “But..” 16:35 — one by one the detainees, 12 of them, are called over by E. Each has a story, each is “interrogated” by E. “I want to know how you passed and when.” To one, who says he came through the checkpoint in the morning with permission from a soldier, E. replies, “I was here, I’m not like all the soldiers,” pointing to the single bar on his shoulder.” 16:55 — a long, slow day at the checkpoint, and there are still 17 in the compound. E. clings to his pack of IDs, calls the detainees, one by one, offers each miscreant a lecture. Life goes on. And on. And on.